


This Moment Is Your Life

by awilliamson81



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not a Story, more of a random collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awilliamson81/pseuds/awilliamson81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of moments that make up the world that is Frank Castle and Karen Page</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. at any moment

**Author's Note:**

> This is not so much a story as it is a collection or series of moments happening between Frank and Karen. Snippets of conversations pop into my head and I don't always have enough to make those individual thoughts into a story, so this happened instead. I hope you enjoy!! ~Amanda (punishpage on tumblr)

"Thank you for coming over - I need your help."

He sits on the arm of her couch and crosses his arms over his chest. "What is it now?" He's smirking and she can't help but match it.

"I need to go talk to some men - pretty, uh, bad men? And I think...I know I should have you with me ...or close by."

She's finally accepted the fact that she is not invincible and he came to her months ago and offered her his help. He told her he knew she wasn't going to stop - it was clear she wasn't made that way and he can understand that - so at the very least would she please accept his help. He knows she's capable and strong and to never underestimate her, but being there as back up puts his mind at ease. He never over steps his bounds and she never keeps things from him.

"Your boyfriend had a little talk with me about helping you out."

"For the last time, he's not my boyfriend and he doesn't get to decide who helps me or doesn't."

He nods, "that's what I told him."

"Oh, really?" It's sarcastic - she's doubtful.

"Really. It's like- I don't even think the man knows you. He talks about you like you're made of glass," he scoffs, "like you can't take care of yourself."

She rounds on him. "Oh, please. Do not stand there and pretend you don't park yourself on the roof opposite mine a few nights a week."

He has the decency to look chagrined. "I won't. I do. ...I like to check up on you."

She shifts on her feet and tucks her hair behind her ears.

He tilts his head to get a better look at her face, "you mad?"

She shrugs petulantly. "No. I sleep better," she admits reluctantly. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course."

~~~~~~~

He lets himself in and hears muffled music.

"Karen?"

He stops short in her living room and wonders for one brief and sickening moment if she's entertaining...a...guest?

He's carrying a gallon of milk because he drank the last of hers earlier while she was at work. What did she expect when she bakes a chocolate cake with chocolate icing and some kind of raspberry sauce between the layers? That requires a glass of milk.

He hears her singing and smiles to himself.

He puts the milk in the fridge and writes a note that says 'don't quit your day job.'

He would stick around but it's almost time to go to work.

~~~~~~~

"I don't have a washer," she informs him dully.

He's standing in her doorway with a bag of his dirty laundry.

"Neither do I. How do you wash your clothes?"

She rolls her eyes, "at a laundromat like most people."

He sighs and steps in to her apartment and drops the bag. "I miss having a washer and dryer."

"C'mon, I have quarters."

~~~~~~~

He takes a sip of her coffee and his whole face scrunches in on itself. "How the hell do you drink that?"

She grabs it back from him. "It tastes good in my mouth - that's how."

He smirks and she rolls her eyes.

~~~~~~~

"Jesus Christ, Karen. What the hell were you thinking?"

"That this would be a lot easier and I could tackle it myself."

There are tarps and paint and rollers and brushes everywhere. She's an overachiever, fuck you very much.

"In one day?!" He removes his cap and scrubs his head with his hand and looks around.

He found the apartment and she fell in love with it even though it needs a ton of work. He accidentally told her he would help her fix it up. He's a dumbass like that.

"You see why I need your help?"

He sighs and rubs his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. "Yes."

~~~~~~~

"You're out of your damn mind if you think I'm going to let you run surveillance on my co-worker!"

"I don't think he's a very good guy, is all," he shrugs.

She stares him down and he won't meet her gaze. "This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I had a drink with him last week, does it?"

"No," he says stone-faced.

"Right. You can go now." She motions to her door and he nods before leaving.

~~~~~~~

She knocks on his door because she hasn't heard from him in weeks. A week. Five days. Whatever. She's concerned he might be dead.

He answers the door wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. His nose and eyes are red and raw.

She looks at him with concern and he hates it.

"Stop." His voice is nasally.

"You're sick?"

"Karen-" he warns.

"I'm sorry. I just- didn't think you could get sick."

He looks at her like she's speaking a different language - one she's made up. "I sleep never and eat nothing. Why would you think that?"

He's let her in and she's searching through his cabinets. Nothing. "I don't know...I think of you as invincible, I guess."

He likes that. It's bullshit, but he likes it.

"I could get you some soup? ...Dammit, I wish I knew before I got here."

"Please stop? I just need some sleep... You can stay or you can go, but I need sleep, Karen." He's lying on the couch with his eyes closed.

"Stay. I'm staying, I'm- you're not listening. You're asleep." She sighs and takes off her jacket.

~~~~~~~

She has never been more scared in her life. Okay, that may not be true, but in this moment she is petrified she will lose him. She cannot lose him.

Claire, the nurse, Matt's nurse, is bent over Frank trying to revive him. She can't breathe, but she would gladly give her breath if it meant he would be okay.

He gurgles, chokes, and sputters before saying her name and her tears of anguish quickly turn to tears of relief.

"I'm here. I'm here." She is next to him, hands on his shoulders.

He reaches up to her and tells her not to leave him.

"No, I'm not. Of course not."

~~~~~~~

It's late - nearing midnight and she's still at the office.

He startles her when he walks though her door carrying a brown bag.

"Frank," she whispers harshly and is out of her seat so quickly it amuses him. "What are you doing? Someone could see you!"

"No one's here."

"But sometimes Jer-"

"He's gone."

She stares at him, mouth agape.

"He left. He's not...I didn't- he left for the night," he clarifies. "I don't just run around killing anyone in my way, Karen."

She sits back down and rubs her eyes. "I need to get this done, Frank."

"You need to eat." He sets the brown bag on her desk and it smells divine. She looks up at him with a smile.

"You're very kind."

"Yeah, well, don't tell anyone."

~~~~~~~

She opens her refrigerator, excited for her leftovers.

They're not there.

"Goddammit, Frank!" She slams the door and storms over to her window. He's there, on the neighboring roof with his stupid fucking rifle.

She scrambles for a sharpie marker and paper. When she gets her hands on them she writes out, 'FUCK YOU' and slams it against the glass of the window.

He gives her a wave.

Asshole.

~~~~~~~

He replaces the food he took while she's at work and hopes she accepts the apology. He threw in some vodka for good measure.

He stays away from her building and the neighboring roof for a week or so before she turns up at his apartment again.

"Where have you been?"

"I'm backing off. You seemed really pissed."

"I was, but now I can't sleep."

He walks her back to her place and fixes her leaky faucet before leaving.

He tells her he won't be around tonight and she knows what that means.

She sleeps soundly again.

~~~~~~~

He's Sicilian and she knows he won't eat any old pasta.

Her co-worker tells her about a place that makes the best Sicilian Puttanesca money can buy, so she orders it and has it delivered to her place one Wednesday afternoon. She's at work, but she knows Frank is at her place. He has been renovating her kitchen slowly but surely during the day before he goes to work at night.

She barely sees him anymore but it's a comfort to know he's around.

She comes home to a note telling her what the word Puttanesca means and that she made his day.

~~~~~~~

She jumps three feet in the air when he knocks on her bathroom door. She was daydreaming and luxuriating in the feel of the hot spray on the back of her neck.

"Come in!" She takes s steadying breath, "Jesus Christ, Frank. I almost had a heart attack."

He chuckles and apologizes. "I called your name a dozen times."

She peeks her head out around the curtain, "what's up?"

"Remember your co-worker that you didn't want me watching?"

She glares at him.

"He has a taste for underage girls."

She knits her eyebrows. "Pete?! That- are you sure?"

"You know the answer to that."

"So you weren't just jealous?"

He looks confused. "Jealous about what?"

"Nothing. Nevermind. ...how young?"

"As far as I can tell, 12-16 ish. No one younger than 12."

"Are you- did you...?"

"Not yet. I'm coming to you first. I figured you would want to know."

She wants to tell him not to kill Pete. She wants to ignore what he does and pretend like this isn't an issue. But people like Pete don't stop and those poor girls...

"Do what you have to do, Frank."

She's in way too deep with him.

~~~~~~~

"I may need to go undercover."

She's busying herself making her bed as he leans on her doorframe, watching her. He's there earlier than usual because the kitchen is almost done and he wants to finish today.

"As?"

"A stripper?"

"Are you asking me?"

"No. I don't need your permission."

"It sounded like- okay," he sighs heavily. "What do you need me to do?"

"Be there. Just, you know, at the club...in case." She's done making up her bed and is standing in front of him.

"You want me to come to a strip club and watch you pretend to be a stripper so you can gather information on some shitbags for an article that will most definitely put a target on your back."

She nods affirmatively.

"I'm not sure how I could say no to that..."

"I know there will be plenty of topless women to distract you-"

"I won't be distracted-"

"But I need your eyes on me."

He stifles his smile. "Won't be a problem, ma'am."

~~~~~~~

She cannot cook to save her life. She's more of a baker. It's precise and she likes precision.

Her nerves are rattled because of her upcoming (self-given) assignment and she needs to decompress. She needs to bake to do that. Also, cleaning the resulting mess will help.

Her kitchen is done and it's beautiful. She will figure out a way to properly thank him later.

She bakes cookies. A lot of cookies. She will bring some to work and leave some (most) home for Frank.

She has smudges of flour on her face and...everywhere, really. She's five dozen cookies in when he shows up.

"Holy shit it smells amazing - you can smell this in the hallway."

She's loading another baking pan with gooey dollops and smiles her thanks.

"Have some."

He doesn't hesitate and grabs three. "What's all this for?"

"I have to strip tomorrow night." As if this should explain everything.

"Right. Of course." He pulls a face to demonstrate she's out of her mind.

"Shut up. You do nothing but win in this whole thing. You get cookies and breasts."

He considers this and nods. "I can only put my mouth on one."

"If you play your cards right..."

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "Is that right?"

"No. Get out of my apartment."

He laughs and grabs a few more cookies for the road.

~~~~~~~

He's sitting in the booth next to the "bad guys" as she keeps referring to them.

There are a lot of topless women, but he hasn't taken his eyes off her. In fact, women keep approaching him because that's what happens in these clubs - they have a job to do. He turns them down politely and motions to Karen as an explanation. Every one of them seems confused by her presence. She somehow charmed the owner into doing this and he doesn't even want to know.

She looks - like a damn goddess or something equally poetic. He admires her gravitas. It strangely hits him in that moment that he has more respect for this woman than he has ever felt for anyone. He's respected others, but this is a different kind of admiration.

He has a love for her he cannot hide or deny. This revelation could not have come at a worse time.

She makes her way over to him and he's struck with her. She doesn't hesitate to climb into his lap and he plays his part well - almost too well.

He holds a twenty between his pointer and middle finger as he runs the corner of the bill from her throat all the way down to her belly button. She smirks down at him and he's looking up at her in wonder. Her hair is set in soft curls and falls around them to create a private space for them as she touches her forehead to his.

"You okay?" His voice is gravel.

"I'm shaking, but I'm okay."

She rolls her hips and he wets his lips.

"They haven't said much."

"I have to go over there."

"Stay here a minute." He forgets to give her a legitimate reason.

It's a very good thing he can't touch her, she thinks. Or she would be in very big trouble.

~~~~~~~

She writes her article and Ellison is sufficiently impressed. It's a dangerous article and her name is attached to it.

She knows she won't have to worry about retribution and struggles with the morals of this.

He doesn't need to tell her he's taking these guys out, but he does and she tamps it down somewhere deep and dark inside with the rest of the sins she holds.

What he doesn't, he won't, tell her is that he has fun doing it. After watching them with her at that club, his blood has been set to boil and he's thought of little else.

She hears about it on the news, as always. Her day progresses as usual and she briefly mourns her idealistic youth. He hasn't taken this away from her - just shown her a different view. Once you see things from Frank Castle's vantage point, there's no going back to rose-colored glasses.

~~~~~~~


	2. play along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any prompts...anything you'd like to read...LET ME KNOW

"Karen, you do not need that many cupcakes."

"Shut up. You don't know."

The woman behind the counter is giggling at their bickering. 

"That one," he points to a chocolate and raspberry mini cake. 

"I thought I didn't need this many?"

"You don't. Get that one."

She sighs and tells the woman she'll take the cake he's picked and a mini peanut butter cake. And a lemon tart. And a hazelnut eclair. 

He rolls his eyes and pulls his cap lower. He's forever nervous about people recognizing him. She told him she would go to the bakery alone, but he was there and didn't feel like sitting around waiting for her. 

He pays and she takes the containers off the counter. She is beaming when she looks at him and he can't help but laugh at her. 

"You're cute." It slips out before he can stop it. 

~~~~~~~

She comes home from work with tired feet and an aching head. 

She walks through her living room into the kitchen and stops. There was something very different about her living room. She backs up and moves to stand in front of the large television mounted to her wall. 

"Is he serious?!" She asks no one. 

She cannot believe he did this without her permission. She cannot believe she hasn't seen him all week. Today is one year since they met in that hospital room and of course he wouldn't remember something like that, but it would be nice to at least see-

Oh. 

This is a gift, clearly. One that she absolutely was not expecting, but she has said she needs a new tv in the past. 

He's out of his ever-loving mind. 

~~~~~~~

He hasn't gotten off her couch all day. It's a Sunday and to be fair, she hasn't moved much either. It's raining and she's feeling listless. 

He came over this morning while she was showering and scared the hell out of her. Again. At least he brought breakfast and coffee. Her fancy coffee as he puts it. He has no problem ordering it but would rather be stung to death by bees than drink it. His words, not hers. The man loves sweets, but his coffee has to be more bitter than a grounded teenager. 

They're on their third movie when she looks over to find him sleeping peacefully. She has an awful idea to get payback and scare him. It's awful because who in their right mind would try to scare the Punisher awake? Karen Page, that's who. 

She crawls over to him from her section of the couch and gently climbs on top of him. She doesn't know exactly what she's going to do yet but she's giddy with excitement already. 

She doesn't get the chance to do anything because he adjusts his position, putting an arm around her and effectively traps her between him and the couch. 

"Frank," she whispers. 

"Shhh.."

And she doesn't move and she barely breathes. This is her home now. She'll have to live out her days and die here. She closes her eyes and eventually drifts off listening to his breathing. 

~~~~~~~

She wakes one morning to find him on her couch, fast asleep, an infomercial playing on the tv. 

She puts a blanket on him and gets ready for work. 

~~~~~~~

"Why are you sleeping on my couch now?" She puts mustard on her pretzel while he pays the nice man who clearly recognizes Frank and seems to be a fan. 

"I'm looking for a new place...been at this one too long."

"You need my couch for that?"

"I feel paranoid at my place." The casualty with which he admits this solidifies her notion that she's the only person he trusts. 

She takes a bite of the pretzel and hands it to him. He takes it, tears out the middle, and hands it back. The middle is both of their favorite, but he did renovate her kitchen and buy her a tv - also this pretzel. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did," he says around a mouth full of the dough. 

"I mean before you started camping in my living room."

"Didn't want to worry you."

She pulls a face. "How can people still be trying to kill you? Don't they get it yet? They have no chance against you."

He smirks, "in my experience, most people are dumbasses. Besides, I'm not sure anyone is watching me...just a hunch."

~~~~~~~

He shows up at her door with a pit bull.

"That's a dog!" She kneels and starts scratching its head.

"And some people say you're not observant."

"Who says that?" She says it in that voice you use when you're talking to dogs. Not quite baby talk...you know what I mean. 

"Me, mostly."

She moves out of the way so they can come in. 

"What can I do for you and your friend here, Mr. Castle?"

"Watch him?"

"Okay!" She sits on the couch and taps her lap so the dog goes to her. 

"I told you she wouldn't mind," he says to the dog. 

"What's his name?"

"No idea."

"Whose is it?"

"Don't know that either."

She furrows her brow, "did you steal him?"

"Rescued. I'm no thief."

"He can stay as long as he likes, but I have to go to work on Monday." The dog licks her face. "Or maybe not- maybe I can stay with you?" She's putty in this dog's paw. 

"What's your secret, dog?" 

"Leave now. We'll be fine."

~~~~~~~

Two of her friends from college have bullied their way into visiting her. 

They are gathered at her kitchen table and a few drinks into their night when someone starts unlocking her door and that someone is the Punisher. Frank, to her, but they might know him as the Punisher. 

Her heart stops and she rushes to the door. Both of her girlfriends are tipsy and asking her (very loudly) who that could be and who she's hiding. 

He gets through the door and sees her panicked look. 

"What? What is it?"

She backs him against the door and begs him to please play along.

"What the hell is-" he's cut off by her friends joining them in the living room.

"Hi!" Ania greets. 

Okay, so they don't know he's a mass murderer. Good. That's good. 

He waves and apologizes for interrupting their night. 

"You're not interrupting at all. Join us." Molly offers. 

"Oh, Steve works nights..."

"Just...dropping in to see if she needs anything before I head in..."

Really? 

They playfully frown and 'boo' him. 

He says he'll see her later and she kisses the corner of his mouth and then, motivated by the vodka, full on kisses him. It takes him a moment to process what's happening but he wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer. When they part, they're staring at each other and Ania and Molly are in the kitchen refreshing their drinks. 

"Be careful," she whispers. 

"Leave a light on?"

She nods. He lets go of her and he's gone. 

She touches her lips and stands there in the middle of the room for a moment before going back to her friends. 

~~~~~~~

The tv is on when he gets there at 3 am. Her friends are sleeping on her couch (it's a sectional). He's bloody, but none of the blood is his own. 

He's going to have to sleep in her bed or on the floor in her bedroom. But first, a hot shower. 

He will never admit this to anyone alive but he loves her shower. Her soap is so much better than his and everything smells so fucking good. Also, it's an intimate zone - she's naked here every day - all wet and slick with soap... He turns the knob to cold. 

He steps out and dries off with one of her big soft towels. Better than air drying like he does at his place. Less laundry, less clutter. 

He pulls on a pair of his sweatpants as quietly as he can and she says hi. It scares the shit out of him and he damn near falls over while pushing his leg through the grey cotton material. 

"Jesus Christ- are you trying to kill me?"

"There are much better ways to kill you. All I did was say hi," she says innocently. "I'm sorry about earlier and them taking your bed."

"It's your place. Do you want me to go?"

"No! Of course not. You can sleep in here."

"You wanna be more specific....?"

"With me. In the bed...but don't get used to it!"

He pulls back the comforter and climbs in next to her. "Don't get any ideas," he teases. 

"Too late for that." She rolls away from him and he smirks at the back of her head. 

"Night."

"Go to sleep."

~~~~~~~

The next morning, her and her friends go to brunch. He throws on a t shirt to say goodbye and they are all gathered by the door when he pulls her to him and kisses her hard. "Don't have too much fun without me," he teases and her friends laugh and her insides are boiling. 

She spends brunch completely distracted by the memory of his lips on hers. God, she hates him so much. 

"Where did you find that one?" Ania asks. 

"He followed me home like a lost puppy," she says sarcastically, but it's not so far from the truth. 

When she returns, he is on her couch watching Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. She hands him a to go container filled with blueberry pancakes and sausage. "You have to stop kissing me."

He gives her that look he's always giving her that clearly states she's out of her mind. "You told me to play along!"

She did. She did do that. He did very well. Too well. She hates him. 

"Thank you," she says quietly

"My damn pleasure, ma'am...always at your service," he spits sarcastically. 

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means when you say stop I'll stop and when you say go I'll go."

"I won't be saying go again."

"We'll see." He takes a bite of sausage. 

~~~~~~~

His taste in television is wretched. He loves shows like Judge Judy and "triple D" as he calls it. The first time he says it she thinks he's referring to a porno. He laughs but tells her they can watch that too if she wants. 

Anyway, he loves anything with no real substance or plot. He would never share this with anyone else and has sworn her to secrecy as if she could gossip about the Punisher. 

It's torturous, but it's her own fault for never putting her foot down. She sits with him and works while he watches all the dreck he can consume and she enjoys seeing him happy, so she keeps her mouth shut. 

~~~~~~~

She misses the days when he would watch her from the roof. She was able to tease him and it made her feel dangerous. She loved getting undressed in front of the window in such a way that he would see skin, but nothing too racy. 

She is currently lying on her bed, wearing only a slip and fantasizing about him watching her. 

She needs to stop this. It will only lead to trouble. 

Her legs are spread wide and her fingers are ghosting over her center, teasing the growing wetness there. She traces her entrance and rolls her hips, a soft moan escaping her lips. She's never been vocal on her own, but when her mind slips to him she can't control herself. 

She hates him. Truly, she does. She doesn't have a love life because of him and maybe wouldn't have to please herself if it weren't for him. 

Her fingers work faster and her back arches off the bed - she's putting on a show for no one, but imagining him there on the roof, unable to look away. 

She's so caught up she doesn't hear him enter the apartment.

He hears her as soon as he crosses the threshold into her apartment and freezes. Does he let her know he's here? Does he leave? Does he sit on the couch, close his eyes and enjoy the mental image her sounds are painting for him? 

He walks into the kitchen as quietly as he can and softly raps his knuckles on her bedroom door. "Karen?"

"Goddammit, Frank!" She closes her legs. 

He pushes open her door and leans against the frame. "Don't stop on my account."

"I didn't tell you to come in." She throws a pillow at him and tells him she hates him. 

He thinks she's lying. "What were you thinking about?"

"Murdering you."

He smirks, "at least I was there."

She decides to turn the tables and own this a bit. "What if you were there?" She says coyly and runs her finger over her satin covered stomach. 

He watches that finger very carefully. "Was I?"

"You were. On that roof right over there," she points outside her window. 

He pushes away from the doorframe and moves closer to the bed. She gets to her knees in front of him and wraps her arms around his neck. 

"Would you have liked that? To watch me?"

He swallows hard and doesn't think this is real. His gut is telling him something is amiss and he already knows her too well. "No."

"No?"

"I think you're playing me right now - you're mad I caught you and frustrated you had to stop-"

"I didn't have to-"

"And now you're reeling me in and you'll cut me loose any second, so no... I won't be playing along."

She bites her lip. 

"Now if I'm wrong, I'll take that - and you - right here, but I'm not wrong, am I?"

"No," she admits softly. She feels that familiar ache between her legs. 

His arms encircle her and he rests his forehead against hers. "Now, do you want to finish what you started?"

"Yes." It's barely a breath. 

"Do you want me to go out on that roof and watch?"

She slaps his arm and he smirks. "Kind of?"

"How about I get in the shower and I'll take my time? Leave you to it..."

She closes her eyes and he kisses her forehead before he slips away from her. She wastes no time after he closes the bedroom door behind him.

~~~~~~~

She never sees her landlord, but he's a sweet old man and one of the reasons she fell in love with this building. 

He's too old to maintain the building well but his sons help out when they can. 

There's a knock at her door one evening around 7 pm and she knows it's not Frank because he doesn't knock. 

It's her landlord's son with her rent check. He explains her rent has already been paid for the next six months and he's confused about whether or not she wants it to go towards the seventh month or if this was a mistake. 

She's more than a little confused herself. 

"Who paid the rent?"

"A man by the name of Steve?"

"I don't know any..."

"If there's a problem or someone is harassing you or-"

It dawns on her. "No. No I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking clearly. I know who it is and I'm so sorry for the confusion."

~~~~~~~


	3. a toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skinemax and Vermont

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun with this. I almost don't even care if people like it?  
> ~Amanda (punishpage on tumblr)

"I miss going to bars."

They're sharing a bottle of whiskey on her roof. They're about halfway through already and she's getting sleepy.

"Why?"

"Sometimes it's nice to just get out...I can't do that."

"You can. You just can't do it in the tri-state area."

"Yeah, but I don't leave...here."

"So, we leave."

"Are you inviting yourself on my bar excursion?"

She ducks her head and giggles. "I believe I am. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Where are we going?"

"Well...Vermont. Or down south somewhere? Somewhere rural where no one really pays attention."

"I could get away, yeah. You're serious?"

"I think I am. Pick somewhere and we'll go next weekend - if that works?"

"Vermont. I wanna see where you came from." He takes a swig off the bottle and hands it to her. She takes it from him and looks up.

"There's more stars there."

"Mmmm," he hums. "I do miss those stars."

~~~~~~~

She gets up around 2 am to use the bathroom and hears what sounds like... Porn?

Oh, ho ho. She's about to get her revenge and catch him in the act.

She stalks out to the living room on her tippy toes and two women are in bed together, bare breasts and eighties hair - this isn't porn.

Skinemax.

He fell asleep washing a movie again and now this is on. Dammit she was so excited to rub it in his face. Ahem. She means get her revenge.

She shuts off the tv and storms back to bed.

~~~~~~~

She's on top of him, riding him. It's fast and hard and he's completely lost in her, in them. She's panting and moaning and he's so close but trying so hard to hold off. He grabs her hips hard and wants to turn her over to pound into her-

The tv is shut off and his eyes shoot open. He was dreaming. Only dreaming. He's rock hard and refuses to jerk off on her couch unless she's encouraging it.

He thinks of literally anything else - or tries, but his thoughts, his oh so filthy thoughts return to her. She was perfect and wanton, writhing around on top of him and he hates that she's so close yet so far out of his reach.

Fuck it, he thinks and grips his cock.

~~~~~~~

He has some really asinine nicknames for her. Mostly pop culture references. Scully might be her favorite although she doesn't know of any resemblance between her and the FBI agent from the 90s.

She has lunch with Matt and he calls her Hildy, she has to stop and think about it. She asks him to explain it and he tells her to figure it out. It comes to her while she's at work and she smiles. She doesn't know if she wants to slap or kiss him for that one. Hildy Johnson. Yeah, she'll slap him.

Names like Wonder Woman and Katniss don't phase her and she thinks they're kind of lame, but he's kind of lame. It's the names that are more obscure that charm her. After a drink with a co-worker he calls her Fran and when he drives her anywhere he calls her Sabrina.

"C'mon, Sabrina, we're losing daylight..." Would he be her dad in that scenario? Creepy.

She asks him when he's had the time to watch all of these movies and he tells her he was, believe it or not, a kid once.

~~~~~~~

The son of a bitch gets shot. Does he go to a hospital like a normal person? Of course not. He can't. Instead he bloodies up her bathroom and tells her to stop worrying. He might as well tell her to live without breathing. Impossible.

The bullet only grazed his arm and he's stitching himself while she paces outside the door in the kitchen.

"You're gonna burn a hole in that new tile," he informs her through the door. She shut the door when he began performing the procedure on himself.

"Just hurry up."

He shakes his head, "not something you really wanna rush, ma'am."

She rolls her eyes, "dont 'ma'am' me."

When he's finally done a year later, she hears the shower turn on and opens the door to find him about to remove his underwear.

She's apologetic and he's amused.

"Did you wanna join me?"

"I- no. Sorry." She closes the door and takes a deep breath, leaning against the door.

He's on the other side and she can tell he's there, just on the other side of the door and not in the shower yet.

She could very easily open the door and strip down. Standing under that hot spray with him, their naked wet bodies pressed against each other-

"You're wasting water."

He moves away from the door and she hears the curtain pull back. She pushes away from the door and locks herself in her bedroom.

~~~~~~~

She's drunk. Like, hasn't been this drunk since college. She calls the burner phone she bought for him. He hates it, but she likes to be able to reach him at all times.

"Hey! I need you to come get me, please?"

"What? Where? I can't hear you..."

"It's a bar and it is LOUD."

"Go outside."

"Oh, no. That's where the rapists are."

Good. She's drunk. This can only end well.

"I kill those guys."

"Oh okay."

He can hear her saying excuse me over and over until the deafening sound of drunk patrons has given way to car horns.

"Where are you?"

"Uhhh....you told me to go outside."

He sighs. This goes on for another few minutes until he's able to piece together her location.

She's a block away.

~~~~~~~

"Are you still looking for a place?"

"Found one."

"What? When? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Just did."

She stomps off to finish getting ready for work and he follows. "Why are you mad?"

"I'm not. I don't know what I am."

"I'm gonna miss you too," he teases.

She sighs and sits on her bed.

"I can't stay here, Karen. I've been here too long already. I don't ever want you in harms way and the longer I'm here, the greater the odds of that happening. Plus, where would I put my...stuff?"

"I have drawers..."

"I have an arsenal."

Oh, right.

She looks up at him with a watery smile and he goes to her. "I'm not going anywhere."

~~~~~~~

She thinks if her soul was ever meant to find another soul, it's his. He makes her feel as though all the horrible things that have happened can do nothing but harden her skin. She used to be afraid of this. She is not afraid anymore. She wears these sins like armor.

He needs her to make him, keep him human. Their lives are so seemingly simple from the outside - to anyone that doesn't know him or them. Nothing about his life is simple. Except for her. She is the only light in his mind full of dark. He holds on to her to keep him from slipping off this earth.

~~~~~~~

The ride to Vermont is comfortable. She doesn't ask where the car came from, but she assumes the previous owner won't miss it. She watches him sing along to countless songs and feels a flood of warmth crash through her - it's so overwhelming her eyes well with tears that sting.

If she squints real hard she can spot his excitement.

"I got us one room, but I can call now and make it two of you want?"

She debated the room(s) for an entire work day. She would open the site, close it and walk away, open it, close it and write, open it, close it for more coffee, and on and on...

"Whatever you wanna do is fine."

"No, see it's not about what I want. What are you comfortable with?"

He gives her that look again. "I'm not deciding this."

She rolls her eyes. She is genuinely afraid they may fall out of her head.

"Fine. One room, two beds."

"Good. You manage to take all the covers and most of my pillow - how you do that I will never understand."

She scoffs, "one time and I'll never live it down."

~~~~~~~

The bar they find closest to their hotel is...rustic. It's a dive bar, her favorite kind and his too. There's a jukebox and what looks to be regulars, but they're friendly and the beer is cheap and plentiful. They order beers and shots and sit in one of the two well-worn booths. They toast to holy matrimony - a toast they always make before the first sip of alcohol together (and separate). It's ironic and...whatever, it's what they do.

They chat about what he wants to see while they're in Vermont - her school, her house...she blows it off and offers to go get them another round.

He knows she's avoiding the stories that come along with her home town. He tells her he's got this round - he's going to get every round and she'll do her best to fight him on it.

He approaches the bar and asks for two more beers. The bartender nods his head towards Karen.

"She's a looker. You passing through or visiting?"

"Yeah- we uh, she grew up here."

"Maybe I know her family. What's her name?"

"Page. Karen Page."

His face blanches and he clears his throat. "Sure, I remember a Page. She your girl?"

"Yeah. Wife, actually." It slips out. Technically, it's true, but it's not like they broadcast it. They won't be buying a house together and living happily ever after. Hell, they're barely keeping each other alive.

"My wife is in the kitchen harassing what little staff we can keep." He pushes the pints across the bar and says they're on the house.

~~~~~~~

It happened not long after she was kidnapped by zombie ninjas or whatever the fuck. The "Hand" - not cool. She pushed her way back in - it wasn't hard, it's not like he ever really resisted her. She has said he's always honest with her so he makes it a point to live up to that. He tells her he doesn't want her to leave, but the legal ramifications could be disastrous for her.

Luckily, she worked for lawyers and knows some things. She doesn't have to testify against him as his wife.

No wedding bells were ringing. No rice thrown. No old, new, or something blue. Just Frank and Karen married by an ordained minister in New Jersey with a questionable moral code.

She understands the weight of this considering the events that made him what he is today, but they look at it as a necessary business transaction...or something.

He takes the title of husband more seriously than she expects. He does things for her she would assume a husband would do. He fixes her leaks, takes out her trash, and randomly pays her rent. It's nice. She sometimes feels guilty for not doing more for him, but what could she really do? Clean his guns?

In the deepest and darkest corners of her mind she holds thoughts that will only ever be hers. She imagines herself getting on her knees for him, driving him out of his mind, and smiling with satisfaction after. She wants him to devour her. She wants him to come home bloody and take her on her kitchen table.

But she cannot live in a world where he is not in her life and she fears losing him after fucking him. It may be irrational, but it's very real to her.

~~~~~~~

He fills the jukebox with quarters and plays a selection of rock.

When the final song is a slower one, she grins. He stands up and holds out his hand for her to take. An invitation to dance with him is the last thing she expected from this night, but she's happy to take it.

Just One Look plays and he pulls her closer. She laughs because it's so overtly cheesy and not him or them at all. He's holding her close and swaying to the music, leading her, when he turns his head to press against hers. She can feel his bruised lips at her ear and her spine threatens to melt.

He whispers, "you don't have to tell me."

She nods and wraps her arms around his neck tighter, bringing them closer. "I will. Just-"

"Okay." And he buries his face in her neck. Her long smooth neck. He could write a book about this woman's neck. He recognizes it's a strange part to be attracted to, but he notices these things. Always has. When she bends over, sure he looks at her ass, but the small of her back is just as gorgeous. He's learned to appreciate these things in his lifetime.

He wraps his arms tighter around her and one of his hands moves to rest at the middle of her ass.

She almost moans. She does make some kind of noise and she can feel his smirk. Her nails are tracing patterns at the back of his head.

"Can I get you two anything else before we close up?"

"Eddie, let them be- the song is almost over."

They chuckle and part from each other. "No, thank you. We're getting out of your hair right now." Karen answers with a content smile.

~~~~~~~

They park in front of her old house and she can't stop the tears. He puts a hand on her back and waits for her to speak. He knows she will.

"I killed him. I killed my brother."

It's not what he was expecting.

"How? How did you kill him, Karen?" He's calm and speaking softly. This woman is not a killer. She's just not. He's the killer.

"I- he- I was driving and..." She doesn't continue. She wants him to fill in the blanks because it's too hard for her to say.

"You were in an accident?"

She nods, "yes."

"You didn't kill him."

"I was driving...I watched him-" a harsh sob escapes her, "oh, God."

He gets out of the car and comes around to her side. He opens the door and she opens her arms to him. He's crouching down and holding her.

"What happened wasn't fair, but you did not kill him. He died with you - he wasn't alone."

"I feel like a damn fool blubbering on over this to you of all people."

"What? Why would you worry about something like that? I do my grieving every night, Karen. You can blubber on me anytime."

She laughs and wipes her eyes. "My parents didn't know how to cope after that and everything fell apart - they divorced and my mother still looks at me like I'm a killer."

"No, you're not, but you are married to one."

She stares at him with disbelief. He never makes reference to their "marriage." They both only acknowledge it when they toast and even then it's only with the first round.

"You told the bartender."

He's now kneeling next to the open car door. "You mad?"

"No. Surprised is all."

"Eh, we'll never see him again. I didn't see the harm."

I love you, Frank. It's on the tip of her tongue. Of course she loves him. She has so much love for him. In love with him? That's different. All she will own up to now is having love for him. A cop out? Possibly.

"Can we go? I'm hungry and we don't need to be here. Plus, I think the current owners are staring at us..."

"You're good?"

"I'm good."

~~~~~~~


	4. denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy and Matt and rain and tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo!! I hope you're liking this because I never want to stop!  
> If you have any ideas or anything you would like to happen- PLEASE TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS. I'm so open to suggestions.   
> ~Amanda

Matt wants back in her life. They were, at the very least, friends before. She has no idea how she'll do this with Frank coming around all time. She could lay down some ground rules with Matt, but who does that? Friends don't do that. She's not even sure she wants to be friends with someone that lied to her for so long. 

So, she consults Frank. 

"What does he want, exactly?"

"To be back in my life."

"Do you want that?"

"I'm not sure yet? He was a great friend for awhile until he wasn't."

Frank considers this. "Is he worth another chance?"

She smiles softly and something in his gut twists. He doesn't know the details of what went down between her and Matt, but he knows she got hurt. 

"I think most people deserve a second chance."

"There's your answer."

~~~~~~~

"I need your help again." She's leaning against her kitchen counter and he's searching through her refrigerator.

"Have you ever set foot in a grocery store?"

"Did you hear me?"

"I have ears."

"I know, they're adorable." Whoops. 

"They're...what?"

"Nothing. Can you help me?"

"What is it this time? Are you a prostitute?"

"No- kind of, but no."

He rolls his eyes and slants a smile towards her. 

"I'm going to sit at a hotel bar and listen to a group of men talking. If they assume I'm a ...lady of the night-"

"Puttanesca."

"I- yes? Wait. What?"

"That's what I want. Puttanesca."

"Please pay attention-"

He stands in front of her - very close. So close, and lowers his voice. "You want to put on a tight dress - a dress that I will enjoy very much, but so will every one else with a pulse, sit at a fancy bar and listen to a group of very bad men with huge egos brag about their wrong doings while I watch. You'll write your piece and then I'll come in, guns blazing."

"Yes. But just so we're clear-"

"I don't kill until you write."

"...Puttanesca?"

"Yeah. It also tied into your thing because-"

"Yeah, I got it." She tugs on the bottom of his t-shirt. "You'll enjoy my dress?"

He smirks, "too much."

~~~~~~~

He has a toothache and he's acting like a grumpy toddler. He can't walk into a dentist's office so instead he stomps around her apartment and drives her insane. Not that he would go to a dentist anyway. 

He refuses to take anything to help with the pain and swears it doesn't hurt, but she sees him wince and his mood can't get any worse. 

This man has damn near bled to death on her floor and is brought to his knees by a toothache.

She starts crumbling ibuprofen in his food or a beer here and there. His mood improves by a thousand percent and he's almost...pleasant. 

He tells her the ache is gone and she tells him why. She knows he'll be mad, but she doesn't keep things from him. 

He glares at her and rummages through the tool box he keeps under her kitchen sink. She's figured out his plan and is calling him an idiot. She finds a clean rag because he'll need it. 

He stomps off to her bathroom and rips the tooth from his gums. She hands him a rag and shakes her head at him. 

"I'm not putting a dollar under your pillow."

~~~~~~~

Things are tense. Sexually, you see. It's there. It's palpable. It's written on both their faces and swimming in their eyes. 

At this point it's not a question of if, but when and who will break first. 

They spend most of their time together on the weekends until he leaves for work and they do normal things that people do. Things that no one would suspect the Punisher of doing. Things like, watch movies and take walks. It's easy to imagine him torturing people and eating live puppies if you don't know him, but to know him is truly an honor. 

Also, to know him is to know that he loves movies. All movies. From old to new, cheesy to mind-blowing. 

It's during a lot of these movies that they endure sex scenes. Passionate, sometimes partially nude, sex scenes. These scenes make her squirm and she noticed recently he does his fair share of squirming as well. 

Imagine being around someone that makes you want to tear out your own eye balls but also rip off their clothes. This is the tension that has taken up residence between them. They breathe it in so often its's starting to nourish them. If they break this tension, they may starve. 

She tries to neutralize some of this charged air by making fun of the sex scenes and he, in no way, helps. 

"Oh, of course he can hold her up in the shower and not fall and I'm sure that totally still feels amazing for her."

He knits his eyebrows ,"he looks like a strong guy and she can't weigh that much - you don't think that could happen?"

Kill her. 

"No one does that! No one fucks against a wall like that!"

"Looks fun."

No, seriously. End her life. 

"No. How can you be so mad at someone and you immediately think 'I must fuck this person right here and now' - it doesn't happen."

His jaw clenches. "It could." He tries to shrug it off. 

"How? You really think that happens between normal people?"

Oh, it's time again for his shit-eating grin. As if her hormones weren't already fully charged. 

"You want a demonstration?"

She will not break first. But she wants to win this argument. 

"Yes." She says and he's stunned. He quickly recovers and laughs her off. 

She gets to her feet and stands with her back against the wall. "Show me how that will work and it won't be clumsy."

"You're serious?"

"You aren't?!"

It always comes down to this - them out stubborn-ing each other. 

He gets up and goes to her. He stands in front of her and without breaking eye contact, he slides his hands down over her ass to the back of her legs, wraps her legs around him and instinctively she presses her upper back harder against the wall. 

"See?"

"Fuck me," she commands. 

"I'm- are you-"

She rolls her eyes. "Pretend to fuck me"

He grabs her hips tighter and pulls her flush against him. She's not wearing underwear beneath these yoga pants and the front of his jeans are hard against her clit. 

He rests one arm on the wall behind her and his face is dangerously close to hers. When his hips start moving she holds him tighter and stifles a moan. 

"See? Normal people can do this." His hips move faster and she bites down on her lip.

"Okay. But who's to say it would feel good for me?"

He opens his mouth-

"Don't say you'll demonstrate."

He shuts his mouth and considers her point. "I guess there's no way to prove you would," he clears his throat, "benefit...from this position...without, you know..."

"So, we'll say I'm right?"

"No-"

"I'm right! This is not-"

"How the hell do you think you're right on this? You clearly-"

"Oh my god, why can't you just admit-"

They're arguing over each other when her door opens and Foggy finds them in this compromising position. "...your door was unlocked..."

"Foggy!" She yelps and tries to move. "Put. Me. Down." She hits at his arms and he puts her down, backing away. 

She stands in front of Frank. "Did we have plans? I'm so sorry, I have been so-"

"No. No we um, we don't. I should have called first to see if you want to grab a drink?"

Frank tells her he should be going anyway.

"Hi, Frank," Foggy nods in his direction. 

Frank nods back, "Nelson."

Frank leaves and shuts the door behind him. 

"...should I ask why Frank Castle was not only in your apartment, but-"

"Please don't?"

"Okay I don't need to know the other thing. I want to, but I won't ask. But I do think you need to tell me why Frank Castle, also known as The. Punisher. was in your apartment-"

"You can call him Frank. There's no need to be so dramatic."

"I- what?! He has killed literally hundreds-"

"Thousands, maybe," she supplies. 

"This is okay with you?!"

"That's not a question I can answer in this lifetime."

"He- why are you allowing him to be here?! He is very much a fugitive and you're ...harboring him!"

"It's fine. I'll be fine."

"Is this denial or do you know something I don't?"

"You came by for a drink, right? Where did you have in mind? Or did you wanna stay here?"

He stares at her in utter shock and disbelief. She's smarter than this. "He is a mass murderer and you cannot let him hang out here. What if one of your neighbors calls the cops and you get arrested for allowing him to-"

"Foggy! Stop. It's okay. I'm okay. If that happens- if I do get taken in to custody, I promise it will be okay for me." 

"You're out of your mind. You're in denial."

"I'm very much in my right mind and I promise you this is not denial."

"Then what...no. No no no no no. Oh, you didn't. You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't what?"

"Karen, tell me you didn't?"

"Didn't what?"

"You married him."

~~~~~~~

The whole tight dress, bar, prostitute thing goes off without a hitch. He has his eyes on her and she has her ears on the scumbags. 

He joins her at the bar after the pricks leave and she's nervous someone will recognize him. It's only a hotel bar and not busy at all. The bartender had been chatting her up and she had received some not so shuttle glances from the men, but she ignored them. 

The bartender looks disappointed now that Frank has joined her and Frank looks pleased with this. Men and their egos. Or should she say territory? She hates men more and more with every passing day.

"Oh, stop."

"Stop what?"

She's sure she could love a woman the way she knows she's capable of loving a man. Women are beautiful. That one they call Black Widow? That woman can fill a pair of pants. 

Maybe she should cool it with the martinis. 

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

"It still amazes me how well behaved you can be."

"I'm always behaving with you."

"I know. That's what I just said. You're able to not kill people when you're helping me and that must take great restraint." She's teasing him. 

"Oh, you meant I'm behaving because I'm not murdering anyone?"

"Yeah, what did you mean?"

"Nothing. That's what I meant."

She's not so sure. 

~~~~~~~

The dress she wore that night at the hotel bar was bought specifically for that occasion. She has it laid out on her chair in her bedroom with the receipt and the tag. When she gets home from work, he's there and asks if she's returning it. 

"Yeah, I can't afford that thing."

"I can."

"You know, I'm starting to feel like a mob wife..."

"Like a kept woman?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"I want you to keep it for selfish reasons."

"I figured."

"Will you ever wear it?"

"If I have a reason..."

"So, we make a reason. I think you should keep it."

Damn him. And damn her for keeping the stupid dress. 

~~~~~~~

He makes a habit out of saving dogs. This is great and all but it's become a part time job trying to find homes for them. She works with local shelters because she doesn't trust them to do their jobs. They shouldn't take offense to this - she doesn't trust anyone anymore. Her and Frank do not want to see these dogs be put down for being dealt a bad hand. So, she is constantly searching for loving homes for the dogs (and some cats). 

She loves him for his heart. What an odd thing to say about a murderer, right? You aren't wrong, but she can't help it. He smiles warmly at little kids and high fives them as they pass. He walked an old woman home from the store one night because she said her heating wasn't working and she jokingly said she was afraid she would freeze to death. He fixed her heater and went back the next day to fix her door and lock. 

He would be one hell of a guy if it weren't for all the blood he spills. She supposes that blood has been spoiled anyway and he's only disposing of it. The old woman, Gladys, doesn't know that. She thinks he's just the bee's knees. 

She likes to tease him that Gladys has a crush and he calls her jealous. 

He does things like this all the time. He would be a superhero if he wasn't such an anti-hero. 

She imagines them in another place and time where her father shakes his hand and they laugh and bicker over football while her and her mother gossip in the kitchen. It's silly, she knows, but it's her mind and her private thoughts so back off. 

~~~~~~~

He's tired and hurt. He's nursing a pretty bad stab wound and doesn't go to work. They go on a late night run for snacks because there's an old movie marathon they both want to watch. 

It's raining and she's wearing the wrong shoes so he offers to carry her. She laughs him off and he stands in front of her and tells her to 'hop on.'

"You have a fresh stab wound! I'm not getting on your back."

"I think I can handle it."

"Fine, but if I hurt you-"

"I'll throw you off. Hurry up, we're getting wet."

He bends down a bit and she hops on his back. 

They make it to the bodega and she grabs a handcart and he heads straight for the chips. She is hoping for something slightly healthier and is in the next aisle over when something hits her in the head. It's a pack of snowballs. She picks them up off the ground and a pack of Tastycakes hits her shoulder. She picks those up and as she's bending over a small bag of chips hits her back. 

"What the hell?!"

He starts laughing and she stomps her foot. "Frank!"

A rainfall of soft snacks come at her from where he's standing in his aisle. She holds the basket out and catches as many as she can. 

The cashier briefly looks up from his magazine and shakes his head at them. 

He comes around to her aisle. "What happened?"

"Some lunatic is throwing shit."

She dumps the basket of snacks on him and leaves it on his head like a hat. "It's a good look for you." 

She walks away and he's left to clean up his mess. 

When they finally make it back home, they're soaked and he's bleeding. Tears spring to her eyes because she knows it's her fault. 

"Karen, I'm fine." He moves past her to find something to clean off the blood. 

"I told you I didn't want to!"

"Oh my god-"

She's wiping at her eyes and he goes to her. He wraps his arms around her and reminds her that he's been through much worse and he insisted she get on his back. 

"I'm really okay, I promise."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll bleed for you anytime." He pulls up his shirt. "See? It stopped. We're good."

She smiles and nods, "okay."

~~~~~~~

They're on her couch and she turns her body to face him. "Matt asked me out to dinner." 

There's that finger twitch. She focuses on it. "You're going on a date with him?" He seems calm. She knows better. 

"No. We're having dinner. We're...friends. Or getting there."

"Friends have lunch. Dates happen at dinner."

"It's not a date and even if it was-"

"Is that what you want?"

"I'm not answering that."

He scrubs his hand over his face. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Take it however you want, Frank. I'm having dinner with Matt and for some ridiculous reason I thought I should tell you."

"I'm glad you did."

"It's just a meal - I don't see the big deal."

"No, yeah. Just let me know when and I'll make myself scarce."

"Frank-"

He smiles at her, "you shouldn't miss dinners for me. I'm an asshole, right? Go have a good night." He sets down the remote and stands up. 

"Where are you going?"

"Wear that one dress from the thing - he'll regret every lie he ever told you." He's moving for the door. 

She stands to stop him. "Frank, knock it off-"

He turns around to face her, "I'm serious, Karen. Have a good time. You deserve it." He kisses her cheek and leaves her. 

~~~~~~~


	5. hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much fro the prompts - I hope they never stop coming. Also, thank you for all the kind words. I'm so happy to see anyone reading this

He's not there when she gets home from work. She can tell he wasn't there at all that day and she tries to not let it bother her. It's not like he's there all the time, but he hasn't been there all week.

It's Friday. She normally sees him on Friday. She calls his burner phone and he doesn't answer. A part of her is worried, but an even larger part is pissed. He doesn't do this. If he can't make it to see her, he calls. If only to let her know he's alive.

She refuses to wallow in this or feel bad for herself and pours herself some vodka on the rocks. She showers and changes into an oversized shirt - not his - and orders food. She'll be binge watching a show he would hate and drinking just the right amount to make her feel warm and loose. She might do some work later if she feels like it, she might not.

Either way, she won't be thinking about him.

~~~~~~~

Matt is nothing short of a gentleman. He pulls out her chair and they split a bottle of wine with dinner. She's not wearing the dress because it feels like cheating. She knows Matt would appreciate it just as much as Frank, but she's not looking to impress or attract Matt. She's not even sure what she's doing here.

It's nice to talk to him and yes, it feels like a date. Unfortunately, she's just this side of miserable the entire time.

He's very boring for a vigilante. Okay, not boring, but- dull? No that's just as bad. He doesn't make her blood rush or her stomach flip. Then again, this isn't a date. They aren't here to pursue something between them. Well, other than friendship.

Her and Foggy never have this problem. They get along so easily and it is never a chore. He makes her laugh and she teases him about almost everything.

This feels like jogging through sand.

They don't take this chance to talk about what went wrong before or why. He doesn't apologize for lying. She's sure he's already done that, but she can't seem to remember it.

She feels like she's out with an old friend from high school - nice to see them, but nothing in common anymore.

She's sure they could discuss Frank, but she's not in the proper headspace for that. They settle on Foggy.

She can't wait to get home and out of these heels. She wants to finish the show she started last night. She wants to know why Frank hasn't been around all week.

~~~~~~~

He works around the clock for the entire weekend. He doesn't sleep and he doesn't eat. He doesn't shower and his skin is caked with blood. When Sunday night rolls around he makes his way home to find her there.

"Where have you been?" She's furious.

"Around. Busy." He moves past her to his bathroom and she follows.

"I thought you were dead."

"Does it look like I'm dead?"

"Close, actually."

He laughs bitterly. "You know you're not my actual wife, right?"

It hurts. It hurts hard. She knows she's not his wife. She could never-

"Frank, why are you doing this?"

He strips out of his clothes down to his underwear. "I'm covered in blood...?"

"Not the shower- Jesus! Why are you pulling away from me?"

He sighs and pulls down his boxer briefs and steps into the shower. "You should be happy, Karen."

"Very far from it at the moment."

"You will be. I shouldn't have-"

"Did you ever consider that maybe, just maybe, I am happy? That I am happy with my life and my choices and ...you?"

"I can't give you what you deserve and you know it. I can't- I'm not taking you out to any fancy dinners or-"

"Why do you get to decide that's what I want or deserve? In the entire time you've known me have I ever- wait... Why would you be taking me to any fancy dinners anyway?"

"Not just- I didn't mean just fancy dinners. I can't go out with you anywhere."

Excuse her very much, but he's an idiot.

"You're an idiot."

He opens the curtain enough to look at her. "How's that?"

"We go out together all the time!"

He closes the curtain. "You know what I mean."

"I really don't. Please enlighten me."

"I haven't eaten or slept in days. Can we please do this another time?"

She doesn't answer him. She doesn't think he deserves it right now, so she leaves.

~~~~~~~

Frank is perched on top of a roof with his thermos and artillery when Matt finds him. He's not dressed in the stupid ass pajamas.

Frank hears him before he sees him. "What do you want, Red?"

"I don't want anything."

"Then leave."

"Have you seen Karen lately?"

"So you do want something."

"I'm only asking a question."

Frank grits his teeth and sets down his rifle. "Red, I'm not gonna tell you again."

"I had dinner with her recently and she seemed-"

"Why the fuck do you think I care about this?"

"Come on, Frank... You see her. I know you see her. I'm only asking if she's okay."

Frank sits down and pours himself a cup of coffee from his thermos. Every nerve in his body is dancing and he can feel the vibrations ripple through him. He feels as though he could spark at any moment.

"Frank?"

"What are you doing here, huh? I mean what- you think I'm gonna sit here and-" he shakes his head.

"I care about her and-"

"Go fucking ask HER then. Don't come to me with this bullshit." He finishes his small cup of coffee, throws the cup and then the thermos. He pulls an automatic out of the back of his pants and aims it at Matt. "Get the fuck away from me."

Matt, with his supernatural senses, puts his hands up and nods. "You're not going to shoot me, Frank."

"See, that's where you're wrong. Try me." He's seeing red (pardon the pun). There's nothing stopping him from eliminating this thorn in his ass. Except her. She would never forgive him. She would look at him and see him for the monster that he is instead of the man she holds dear.

"Okay. Okay- I'll leave. But if you're the reason she's-"

And there's that spark.

Frank shoots his arm. Not through his arm, but so the bullet grazes his arm - enough to open his flesh. Matt grabs at his arm and curses.

He bends down to Matt's ear. "You hearin' this, Red? Do you understand? Next time I make a hole."

~~~~~~~

He hates his apartment. There is nothing about it that makes him feel comfortable. He had been getting used to never being comfortable again until her. He didn't want to let himself ever feel the warmth or light of comfort again because it would make him weak, make him soft.

There is nothing in the apartment to remind him of her which makes not seeing her easier. There's no smell of her on his couch or bed, no sweet smelling shampoos or soaps, and no color. The woman loves her Easter egg colors - she calls them pastels.

He sits on his couch, staring at his wall and hates it. He hates his life. He hates that he let her in knowing damn well she would never be able to stay. He thinks of ending it. Ending it all. Why carry on like this? His family is gone - taken from him. He made a home inside her and she doesn't deserve the kind of life she'll be living with him. She deserves everything.

He deserves nothing. He has only an empire of dirt to offer, but oh god does he want her. He wants to deserve her. He wants to see her and feel her and be with her whenever possible. Her words come to him then, there in the darkness - it's not his choice. He doesn't get to decide what she deserves.

So he'll wait and he'll burn. He'll wait for her to see his side - to see that she would only be damning herself to a life sentence of hurt and hellfire.

But oh how he would love to burn with her.

~~~~~~~

She plays with the idea of going to him again. This time, she would lay it all out for him - the hurt and rejection she's feeling and her confusion as to why. She would tell him he haunts her thoughts when she's asleep as well as awake. She wants so badly to do this, but she won't. She's chock full of foolish pride and she will not be the one to go to him. Not again.

She is sitting on her couch staring at her black tv screen. She laughs bitterly at its presence and wants to throw the remote straight through it or pull out her gun and fill it with holes. Fuck him. Fuck him and his haunted life. She will not beg him to let her exist in his world. He'll have to come to her this time.

"Ughhh," she makes a frustrated groan because she knows he won't come to her. It'll be his stubbornness and his love for her that keeps him away. Yes, she knows he loves her. Of course he does. In love with her? Not something she wants to spend too much time thinking about.

Dammit, she'll end up going to him again because he is only trying to protect her - it's part of his life's work. This time though, he's not shielding her from the elusive bad guys, but himself.

She is sick to death of the men in her life doing what's best for her without consulting her and she plans on telling him so.

~~~~~~~

Matt comes to her office and she's not so pleasantly surprised. Don't get her wrong, he's lovely, but she doesn't have the time or energy to deal with him.

"Matt, hi."

"I'm sorry to come by like this-"

"What happened to your arm?"

He does that smile/frown thing with his face, "That would be our friend, Frank."

"What- what did he do?"

He sighs. "He shot me." She literally gasps and covers her mouth. "Yeah, it may have been my fault for approaching him about you, but-"

"About...me?"

"I was worried- the other night...you seemed a bit different and I-"

"So, you went to Frank Castle to discuss why I seemed off to you?" She's a little outraged and he can clearly hear this.

"No, Karen- it wasn't like that-"

"It sounds exactly like that. It sounds like instead of coming to me you went to Frank Castle, who-" she takes a deep breath and composes herself when something dawns on her. "Why would you go to Frank about anything concerning me?"

"You seemed upset and-"

"No, Matt. Why him, why Frank?"

He shifts on his feet and clears his throat. "Because he seems to spend a lot of time with you."

"And how would you know that?"

"I just know, okay? Karen, I really didn't come here to-"

"Did Foggy tell you?"

"No he- no."

"Then how, Matt. Now would be a very good time to start being honest with me..."

"I, uh- I check up on you."

She nods. She had a feeling this was happening. "Thank you for being honest."

"You're not mad?"

"I'm not mad. I'm so sorry he shot you because of me."

Matt pulls a face. "I don't think it was because of you- he told me to leave and-"

"It was because of me." She won't take the time to explain Frank shot Matt because Matt had Karen's name in his mouth. He went to Frank to discuss Karen - a mistake on so many levels - and Frank just does not play nice with others, especially Matt.

"Are the two of you...?"

"Married, yes, but it's not-" her eyes widen when she realizes her mistake. She's been so in her head about Frank lately and especially during the course of this conversation. "...like that." She finishes dully.

Matt closes her office door - probably should have done that sooner, he thinks. "Was that...a slip of the tongue? Or are you actually married to Frank Castle?"

To lie to him now would be hypocritical. "Not a slip of the tongue. A slip in judgement, possibly, but-"

"You regret it?"

"No, no," she waves it off. "I stand by my decision to marry him. I shouldn't have told you, is what I meant."

He looks offended. Good.

"I- Karen?"

"You lied to me for so long. You led me on and now I don't feel that I owe you any explanations regarding my choices."

He nods, "you're right. I'm sorry. ...can I ask? Was this- how did this happen?"

"It doesn't really matter how. He's technically my husband and that's something you'll have to deal with."

~~~~~~~

He hears the clicking of her heels and hangs his head. He sets down his rifle and turns to face her. He smirks as soon as he sees her there. She looks gorgeous and he hates it. He hates it all.

"How did you find me?" He asks gruffly.

"I have my ways." She smiles and he has to look away from her so she won't see the effect she's having on him.

She's wearing the dress and she feels foolish, but he appreciates the effort.

"What are you doing out here so late? It's not safe."

"I think I'll be okay. See, I know a guy..."

"Is that right? You, uh- you think he'll show up?"

"I know he will."

The air is blowing her hair away from her face and she looks like a goddamn angel. A deity sent to rip him straight out of his own personal hell.

He moves closer to her and reaches out to touch the fabric of her dress. "What are you doing out here?" His tone is quiet and soft, so soft.

"I'm not in love with Matt. I don't know that I ever was. I don't care that you're the Punisher- as wildly insane as that sounds - I do not care." He's quiet - watching her. He loves to watch her, to pick her apart and put her back together, figuring out what makes her tick. "I do care that you're gone. I don't like this. I don't like you not being around. I can't-" her voice catches in her throat and she can't help the tears.

"Shh shh shh." He grabs her hips.

"I can't sleep. I hate coming home."

He wraps his arms around her and presses his face into her neck and whispers his apology. "You can't just walk away like that- it's not only your decision."

He knows she's right and he hates himself for it.

"I should be done here soon."

She kisses his cheek. "Be careful."

He nods and turns to find pick up his rifle. She watches him go.


	6. scary water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping happens, so there's that!

"You shot him."

"Eh."

"You SHOT him."

"Only a little."

"That wasn't very nice of you."

"I'm not a nice guy."

"You. Shot. Him."

He looks her dead in the eye, "I was sick of hearing him say your name."

~~~~~~~

It's her birthday and she doesn't want him to know. She doesn't want to make a big deal out of it because to her it's just another day.

She comes home from work to a quiet apartment.

There's a small white box on her kitchen table with a note.

She opens the note first - 'Thank you'

Inside the box is a mini peanut butter cake. Actually, it's a white cake smothered in the most delectable peanut butter icing she's ever tasted. It's from the bakery she loves down the street. She makes this her dinner and stares at the note for far too long.

Thank you? What could he possibly be thanking her for? Also, how did he know it's her birthday? And why isn't he here? Did he not want to stick around to see her?

Thank you. Like, thank you for being born or...thank you for being a friend? Great, now the Golden Girls theme song is in her head.

Maybe it could mean he's thanking her for not caring that he's a murderer.

She's not sure she'll ever get the answer. She tucks the note into the drawer of her nightstand before climbing into bed and sees him on the neighboring roof. He watches her for a while as she gets settled and then he disappears into the night.

~~~~~~~

"That's not a car."

"It's the best I could do."

"I'm not getting on that thing with you." She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her hip.

He rolls his eyes, "what's the problem?"

"They're dangerous and no one respects them on the road. Do you even know how to drive one?!"

"Yes, Karen. I can drive a motorcycle." He hands her a helmet.

"Where's yours?"

"I'll be fine. Get on."

"That's just stupid - I think you did this on purpose." She clumsily mounts the bike as he tells her to avoid the tailpipe. She wraps her arms around him. "Where did you get it?"

"Drug dealer that was selling to middle schoolers."

Again, he maybe didn't need to die, but she bites her tongue on that.

He starts the thing and pulls away from the curb. She's stiff as a board and he can feel it so he reaches back and squeezes her leg. When they get to a red light he tells her he won't go too fast and she relaxes a little. Not much, but she'll get there. As he gets farther and farther from the city, she lets go of her inhibitions and the wind through her hair feels as though it's cleansing her - wiping away the irritations of the week. A smile forms on her face and grows until it hurts. She holds him tighter and he rubs his hand over her arms.

She hadn't realized the intimacy involved with a ride like this. Her legs are spread wide and she's pressed against him. She probably doesn't have to be, but they both seem to be enjoying it. The vibrations and speed have her adrenaline pumping and not to be crude, but her pussy is wet. She wants so badly for him to know what this experience is doing for her.

He hasn't been on one of these in a very long time. He's never owned one, but he's driven them here and there over the years. There's nothing quite like the feel of being in control of this horsepower and having a beautiful woman wrapped around you, her legs spread to you. A Bob Seger song floats through his head. He grabs her leg or holds her arm every so often to remind her she's okay, but also he needs to remind himself she's real and put her trust in him for this ride even after her face and body were conveying nothing but panic.

They reach their destination and her whole body feels like a live wire. He's brought her to a hideout of sorts. It's an oversized shed. He wants her to know where he'll be if he's not in the city.

She likes it. She doesn't like the idea of him being here, but she's happy he's sharing it with her.

"Will you stay here often?" She walks around the outside of the smallish building, him following her a few steps behind.

"I hope I won't have to. This might not be the only one, but it's the first."

"You'll tell me when you have to come here?"

"I may not be able to...that's why I want you to know it exists. I don't want you always jumping to me being dead - if you can't find me..." He trails off and looks around at the trees surrounding them.

"It's sort of creepy. Creepy, peaceful."

"It needs work."

"You'll need it to be functional if you have to stay for awhile?"

"Exactly."

"I can help?"

"Are you asking?"

"I suppose. Is that something-"

"Yeah, I want you to help."

~~~~~~~

She's been sick of the city for awhile and needs a reboot. He tells her normal people call that a vacation. She can't afford a vacation, he can, but it's not only money that's stopping her. She loves her work and really never takes time off.

He suggests a weekend away - leave Friday and come back Sunday night. This is prime time for him. Bad guys love the weekends. She argues this point and he tells her he hadn't realized she wanted him with her.

"Of course you're invited. If you don't want to..."

"No, I do. I'm tired."

So now they have to decide what to do and where to go where no one will recognize him. Also, it has to be within a reasonable driving distance.

Camping. He comes to her with camping.

She doesn't have a better suggestion (besides literally anything else) and he looks like an excited little boy when he suggests it. She counter offers a trip to Maine - she wants an authentic lobster roll with a pound of lobster meat.

"Sure, that's fine."

"You don't want to go to Maine?"

"No, it's fine."

So, they're going camping.

~~~~~~~

Her hallway smells like garlic and she's salivating. She'll be ordering Italian tonight. She stumbles through her door and the smell smacks her in the face.

"Frank?"

"In here."

She drops her purse on the couch and meets him in the kitchen.

"What is happening?"

"I was hungry."

"You can cook?"

"I dabble - it's only pasta."

"Are those meatballs?"

"And sausage. I made the meatballs - not the sausage."

"You... made meatballs?"

"There's garlic bread in the oven."

She stares at him like he's swapped bodies with Martha Stewart. "This is real, right? I'm not dreaming again?"

"Again? You dream about me?"

"Maybe," she smirks.

"And I'm cooking for you in these dreams?" He bends to take out the garlic bread and she watches appreciatively.

She licks at her bottom lip, "among other things." She can see the smirk from the back of his head.

"Oh, I wanna know all about that."

"Can we eat this first?"

~~~~~~~

She wakes in a cold sweat. He's not there tonight - he's working. She calls him anyway in hopes that he'll be home by now.

He answers and she can hear the shrill of the city in the background.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd still be out."

"I'm not busy at the moment - what's up?"

She pictures him sitting on a rooftop somewhere. "I- nothing. I was dreaming and I woke up panicking."

"You want me to come there?"

"No, no. I'll be okay. Just making sure you're alive."

He chuckles lightly and smiles at that. "I'm still kickin'"

She sighs, feeling exasperated, "I need to sleep, Frank."

He squeezes his eyes shut to concentrate on only the sound of her voice. He's about to cross a line he can't come back from. "You want help?"

"Getting to sleep? Are you going to tell me a story?"

He lowers his voice to just above a whisper, "not exactly."

Oh. She takes a deep, steadying breath. Really, all he needs to do is speak to her and the sound of his voice could potentially send her over the edge.

"Are you going to ask me what I'm wearing?" She teases.

"Now that you mention it..." She can hear the smirk in his voice. "Take whatever it is off."

She wants to ask if he's serious. Even if he isn't, she doesn't have to let on that she thinks he is. He can't see her. She sets the phone down and pulls the nightie up over her head, her nipples standing firm against the cool night air.

He can hear the rustling of her covers. No turning back now. He wasn't sure if he was serious about this until now. Okay, he was serious, but if she wasn't then he would change his tune very fast.

She closes her eyes to concentrate on his voice. "Done." Truth time- she's never done this before.

"You're naked for me?"

"Yes."

"Are you under the covers?"

"No."

"Good girl. Tell me what you're doing." His breathing sounds slightly labored.

Isn't this supposed to be about him helping her? Unless he's- oh my. Is he really out there, somewhere in the city, with a hard cock because of her?

She could be a smartass and say she's talking to him, or she could elaborate.

"I'm...teasing my nipples, they're so hard just from listening to your voice - I've never been so turned on by the sound of someone's voice before."

He moans around something that sounds like "Jesus." He's straining against his zipper and wishing he wasn't covered in splatters of blood, sitting on a rooftop or he would be pumping furiously at his swollen cock.

He can see her there on her bed, cream skin glowing and taut. Her fingers pinching and tugging at her nipples.

"My voice turns you on?"

Her breath hitches and he can tell she's gotten more serious about pleasuring herself.

"Mmhmm... It makes you sound so dangerous-"

"I am dangerous." He's not lying or being cheesy. He's one of the most dangerous men to ever live.

"I know...it makes me so..." How much should she confess? Is she only feeling bold because there's a good chunk of city separating them? The late/early hour is undeniably contributing to her openness. Will this bite her in the ass tomorrow?

"Trust me, I know," he breathes. "Tell me more..."

"I- I'm lying back on the bed-" she hears gunfire and him cursing. "Frank?!"

The line goes silent. He's hung up on her. She will spend the remainder of the night frustrated and alone.

"Goddammit, Frank."

~~~~~~~

He's a soldier, so she trusts him to pack their provisions, but she makes it a point to mention they're not headed to war and can bring as much as they want. He only draws the line at the waffle maker.

"There's no electricity."

"But...we're not going to one of those sites?"

He gives her that look he always gives her. The one letting her know he thinks she is out of her damn mind. "No."

The air has been thick between them ever since "the incident" as she refers to it only to herself, in the swirling of her own thoughts. She's not sure what this little excursion will bring, but she's ready to take it on.

They reach the site and it's nothing short of breath-taking. At first, she had honestly thought they would be going to his hideout, but when he started driving in the opposite direction, she became thrilled immediately.

"How did you find this place?"

Normally he would tell her he has his ways or something similar but they're past that now.

"I took a drive and got lost. Found this area."

"You got lost?"

"Not lost lost, but you know..."

She doesn't.

She also doesn't think about places like this still existing without a human footprint ruining it.

They set up camp - well, he does most of the work, but she helps where she can. He creates an impressive campsite with an incredibly large tent. She's starting to really settle into this and is happy she took the day off to start the weekend early.

She stands back to look at the full picture. "You're an artist."

He laughs and shakes his head at her. "No, ma'am. Just practiced."

"So...what do we do now?"

"We look for usable wood. Kills two birds - a hike and the makings for our fire," he winks.

Winks? Is he suggesting their "fire" is not a literal fire? Yes, she's at the point where she is hyper-speculating over his every word and action in her presence. She may have to address this with him soon.

So, they go for their walk, or hike as he called it and they both gather wood on their way.

"Is this all we do? I guess I didn't think about what we actually do while we're here."

"I brought alcohol."

"Oh, good. So did I."

~~~~~~~

He meant a literal fire.

It's bright against the dark of the night and she can't stop staring at the flames licking the open air. They ate their way through some hot dogs and s'mores and are now sipping whiskey from the bottle.

"You wanna swim?"

"I don't have a suit."

"Didn't ask if you did."

"Where would we swim anyway?"

He tells her to follow him and takes her to a small clearing that opens up to smooth black glass. "A lake?"

"Get can't anything past you." He grabs her hand, leads her to the edge, and takes off his shirt.

"You...want me to skinny dip?"

"If you want." He drops his pants and she's left staring at him in his boxer briefs. She has the ridiculous thought of wondering where the Punisher buys his underwear.

"Frank!"

"Don't come if you don't want." He steps into the water and keeps walking until he's waist deep.

"Is it cold?"

"It's brisk, but not freezing." He disappears under the water and she gives up.

She pulls her shirt up over her head and pulls down her jeans. He whistles at her and she tells him to go to hell. She runs into the water and straight to him. She's irrationally afraid of what is in this black water so she attaches herself to him. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around her and doesn't even consider making her feel embarrassed for her nervousness.

"Shh shh shh, I got you."

Her skin appears to glow against the soot colored water and he is once again struck by the living divinity in his arms.

She lifts her feet off the sandy bottom to wrap her long legs around his torso. "I'm- just let me get used to it."

"I'm not going anywhere." He bends his knees to bring them down lower into the water and she holds tighter.

"Are you afraid of the water?"

"No no. I- kind of? It's very dark." She looks around, just shy of frantic.

"We're not in the Amazon, Karen. I promise I'm the scariest thing in this lake."

"You're not scary... I can't see what's under me!"

"Just look at me- hey," he turns her chin so their eyes meet, "look at me."

"I'm fully aware that I'm being absurd-"

"No, it's a little creepy out here, but what do you really think is gonna get you with me around?" She furrows her brow. "I'm- we don't have to stay in the water. I was looking to cool off and I'm good now." He's moving them towards the shore.

"No, this feels good."

"Oh, you noticed that with all your panicking?"

"Yes. Shut up."

"It'll feel even better when we're in front of a fire - let's get you out of the scary water."

~~~~~~~

The fire feels amazing and she's almost dry enough to put her clothes back on. She knows he has been watching her since they left the water.

In reality, he's been watching her for much longer.

By the time they make it into the tent, neither one of them can be bothered to put on clothes. She doesn't remember falling asleep but she can feel his warmth and inches closer.

She's aware it started raining sometime during the night and it's eerily calming. She knows they won't be able to stay another night and is mentally planning the rest of their weekend as she drifts back to sleep.

He kisses her sometime in the early morning. She's awake, but barely. His strong, warm hand rests on the curve of her hip and it serves to keep her grounded.

The rain hasn't stopped, but he has created this shelter for them and she isn't ready to leave. Not ever.

He smooths his hand down her hip, taking her underwear with it and she bites down on his bottom lip. She doesn't want to be teased or for him to take his time - it's been long enough.

He must feel the same because his hand is between her legs before she can register what's happening. When her brain has caught up, she moans into his mouth and he pushes his thick, war-worn finger inside her.

She rolls so she's lying on her back and he stays with her, his mouth on hers, bruising her, branding her. She's opened her legs as best she can while her underwear are still around her thighs.

He's not whispering words to ask her if this okay and if he can proceed - he's taking.

He adds another finger and her eyes widen before her vision blurs. She cries out and is lost to him. Anything he wants, she'll give. His fingers work her long enough to bring her to the edge, a panting and begging shell of a woman. His to fill.

His.

He removes his hand before she can tighten and quiver. He gets to his knees and relieves himself of his underwear and she's staring unabashedly. He doesn't smirk or smile. His face is a mask of hard lines and want. His eyes pierce her and she feels welded in place. He bends to kiss her stomach before pulling her underwear the rest of the way down her legs. Her limbs begin to loosen as she remembers she's still wearing her bra. She's about to remove it when he's on top of her again and pulling the cups down along with the straps. The sensation of his mouth on her pebble hard nipples as the head of his cock is kissing at the wetness his fingers created is enough to choke her. Her head empties of all thoughts and feelings beyond this moment - this space she's sharing with him.

She's rolling her hips to bring him inside her and he's not giving her what she wants. Not yet. He knows when he feels the sweet heat of her, he'll be gone - lost to her. Her whimpered begging reaches his ears and it's like he's alive again. Her ragged breath on his skin burns and reminds him of the nightmarish abyss they're about to fall into. If she's willing to follow him past purgatory and into this perpetual inferno, who is he to stop her?

She says his name and it sounds like a prayer. He pushes inside her and it feels like a promise. He'll do everything in his power to provide contentment for them as they simmer along in the wasteland he's created.

She's holding on tightly and restraining her declaration of love. It's just his cock, she tells herself - it's just the overwhelming pleasure. He fills her and it feels perfect like a life sentence. He pulls out of her slowly so she feels the head of his cock playing at her entrance again.

"God, please..." She chants against his lips.

He pushes back inside her, filling her completely, stealing her breath once again. She begs him to fuck her, to let her come and he increases his pace. Her hips meet his with every thrust until they've created a devastating rhythm.

She breaks quickly and he's finally vocal when he feels her tighten around him. It's primal and louder than she had expected. His pace is punishing, relentless. He snaps his hips against her, pushing into her until he spills inside her.

Her limbs feel weighted and boneless.

They stay there, naked and worshipping each other until the rain stops. It's close to 7 pm when they finally finish packing and leave.

She'll never feel the same about camping and he'll never again curse the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter with every fiber of my being.


	7. sharing is caring

This isn't sunshine and rainbows and will never be flowers and candy. 

Instead of going home after camping, they find a cheap hotel and tear into each other for most of the night and following morning. She becomes familiar with the taste and scent of him as he does the same with her. 

She knows what a turning point for them this is and aches for him and his previous life. Knowing the full weight of his past makes her feel as though she'll never be enough for him. 

He knows in his soul, or what's left of the charred remains, that she is his only link to what makes him human. It's a nearly impossible thought to have, but his late wife loved him enough to never want him to lose himself entirely to the sin of retribution. 

She loved him enough to want him to find a clearing amidst the muck - a simple light in the dark. 

She loved him enough to be okay with him finding that light in Karen. 

~~~~~~~

He's covered in blood that is not his own. Again. This is the third time this week and she can't keep clean towels in this apartment to save her life. 

"Why can't you do this at your place?"

He doesn't have a valid reason. Well, he does, just not one he wants to tell her. You see, if he goes to his apartment after slaughtering human lives, he will let that lingering rage wrap him up like a warm blanket. He would rather she be there to snap him out of it. 

"I like your soap."

~~~~~~~

She turns down advance after advance. Ellison is worried she's working too hard and organizes a staff happy hour. She points out this isn't his style to which he replies, "I love whiskey and a good jukebox."

So, they all clamor into a dimly lit bar and she sits with Ellison.

"The point is to mingle with your co-workers."

"They don't like me very much."

"That's my fault, not yours."

She looks around at the already formed cliques and wants to go home. She's not intimidated by these people, she just does not have the energy to be around them. It's off-putting, she knows, but ask her if she gives a shit. 

She's reminded he'll never be able to attend a work event. Most of their work is centered around him and his wrong or right doings (depending on your view). His hunger for bad blood signs her paychecks. She's lost in the thought of him showing up at this moment when a hand lands on her shoulder. 

"Hey there."

It's Jeremy. He might be the only person she works with that doesn't treat her like an outcast. He has a crush on her - she would have to be blind or stupid not to notice. 

"You're a Corona guy?" She points out the sweating bottle of yellow liquid. 

"Indeed I am. Can I get you another?"

"Uh, yes please? I think I'll need it if I'm going to make it through the next hour," she jokes and he laughs too hard. 

The next hour feels like three and she can finally leave. Jeremy offers to walk her home as he follows her out. Ellison flashes an approving grin and she wants to slap it off his face. Fucking men. She'll explain to him tomorrow why he's an idiot. 

"I'll be fine, really."

"I'm sure you will, but my mother didn't raise me to let a woman walk home alone at night."

She can feel him. She knows he's close. He wouldn't be stupid enough to present himself in front of Jeremy, but he's watching her. She is so sick to death of men. 

Why doesn't he just piss on her - mark his territory.

Jeremy walks her to her stoop and lingers. She knows Frank is around somewhere, probably laughing at this poor kid. 

"I just- I wanted to tell you that I think you deserve the office you were given. The rest of us- we talk a big game and like to think we're as brave as you, but the truth is not one of us could stare down the Punisher without shitting our pants."

This makes her laugh. "You're very sweet, but he's only a man and I've had my fair share of dealing with your sex." 

"What's he like? You know, in person? I can't admit this to too many people, but what he does- I wish I had half the gravitas and...man..."

There is so much admiration on this guy's face it's shocking. It's like he's an actual fan. 

"So, you're a supporter?" She smiles sarcastically. 

He chuckles, "yeah, you could say that."

"Well, if you really want to know-"

"I do," he says earnestly.

"So, you didn't walk me home because you have a crush on me?" She sits on the front steps of her building. 

"No, I- yes, I do. How could I not? But something tells me it wouldn't happen in this lifetime."

She smiles warmly at him, "I appreciate the compliment anyway." 

"So, yeah. I figure you know some things about him..." He sits next to her. 

"Is this off the record?"

"Of course. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I- listen, I was picked on in school and have a sob story the same as anyone else- my dad left and my mom-" he takes a deep breath and her eyebrows knit. She can feel it coming - the devastation is rolling off him. "My mom was raped in front of me and I couldn't- I didn't-" there are tears in his eyes now. This is not how she thought her night would go. She puts her hand on his back and can't find the right words. 

He clears his throat. "Anyway, I'm glad Frank Castle exists."

"So am I."

"Will you, uh- will you tell him there's at least one other person that believes in his cause?"

"Won't have to." She smiles slyly. 

He looks confused and she laughs. "I'm sorry, but your face is precious."

"Not precious enough though, right?"

"In another lifetime, sure, but no. I'm not someone you'd want to be involved with anyway." She shifts to face him. "He's had everything ripped away from him. His whole life, everything he loves...you know the story." She shakes her head, "he truly wears his honor like a suit of armor...Anyway..."

She tells Jeremy about Gladys and his expression softens. 

"You promised off the record, right?"

"I would never betray your trust, Miss Page."

Frank, for his part, has been very patient, but he needs to go soon and he hasn't seen her much this week. He figures he can deal with the fallout of his actions later and approaches them on her stoop. 

"Can we cut the chit chat? I have places to be."

Jeremy is confused for a moment, but when it hits him, it hits him hard. He's on his feet and stumbling when Frank stands in front of him stone faced and calm as ever. 

"You're-" he looks to Karen. "He's-"

"Oh, please stop. Jeremy, this is Frank. Frank, Jeremy. He doesn't think you should be dead, so be nice."

Frank nods at him. "Did I interrupt something?"

"I- we- no, sir."

"He knows he's not interrupting anything." She tells Jeremy. "Frank, stop."

"Are we bringing this party upstairs or should I leave you two alone?"

"No, sir. I'll be leaving now. I- Karen, I apologize for the-" he waves his arms around. 

Karen asks if he'll be okay getting home and he assures her he will. Once he's out of earshot, Frank turns to her, "find out who it was."

~~~~~~~

She tears her dress and that's how she finds out he sews. Frank "The Punisher" Castle knows how to sew. His grandmother taught him. Well, if that doesn't melt your cold heart, she doesn't know what will. 

He has a sewing kit. She makes him repeat that a few times before he gets annoyed with her. 

"Aren't you the one always going on about gender norms?"

"You have a sewing kit."

She's not making fun, she is genuinely endeared by him. 

"I sew myself up all the time, Karen. Why is this so surprising?"

Well, when he puts it like that...

"So, you'll fix my dress?"

"Yes, I'll fix your dress."

~~~~~~~

~It's a dark and stormy night~ yeah, yeah...

The power has been out for hours and they are on their third game of Rummy 500. She has kicked his ass every time. She has every candle in her apartment lit and the ambience is undeniable, but the scent is sickening. Why they're playing cards and drinking whiskey instead of fucking furiously is beyond her, but here they are. 

He's pleasantly surprised to learn she knows the game and even more pleased when she suggests they turn it into strip rummy. Except... She's fully clothed and he's down to his underwear. 

He hears something that pulls his attention from the game and she stops talking when she sees his "on full alert" face. He has so many attractive faces, but this one makes her terrified. 

She now hears what he hears. There are men in the hallway calling for her as if she were a dog. Please, don't let anyone come out of their apartment. 

He moves quickly to her closet where he keeps ...a couple of guns?? She really needs to clean out her closets. He moves to her door and listens. The men sound closer now and she's thankful he's there with her.

There's a knock on her door and Frank motions for her to answer. "Who is it?"

"Karen, it's Jack - we were around the corner at some bar and remembered you lived in this building."

"Who the hell is Jack?" Frank whispers. 

"Do you have someone with you? We figured we would check on you."

"Co-workers," she mouths. He rolls his eyes and puts away the guns. 

She opens the door a crack and smiles at Jack, Denise, and Roland. "I'm sorry, you scared me!"

Frank is in her bedroom now getting dressed. She lets them in. "Thank you for thinking of me. Do you, uh- do you need anything? Are you guys hungry or...?"

They take in the candles, cards, and bottle of whiskey. Denise speaks up, "guys, I think we're interrupting something..." They all smile apologetically. 

"Where is he?" Jack asks. 

"Or she?" Roland pipes up. 

"Um, he. He's in the bedroom..." She can feel the burn of panic rise to color her skin - thankfully, this will showcase as embarrassment to them. 

"Well, I see we didn't need to worry," Denise nudges her arm. 

"Jeremy will be heartbroken." 

"So, don't tell him?" Karen supplies. 

They each take their turn hugging her and she lets them leave after they promise they will be okay. 

"You can come out now."

"I thought your co-workers didn't like you?"

"I have no idea what that was about."

~~~~~~~

He comes to her one night and he looks broken, exhausted. It's late and she's working, but stops when he comes through the door.

"What was it this time?"

He doesn't answer, but instead asks if he can shower. 

"Of course." She follows him to the bathroom and smells... "Is that beer I smell?"

"Yes." She watches him get undressed. 

"Were you out partying without me?" She teases. 

He sighs and stands up straight. "No."

She leans against the door frame. "Should I stop asking questions?"

He sits on the closed toilet seat and rests his head in his hands. She goes to him and he wraps his arms around her waist, finding a new resting spot for his head on her stomach. "You ever been to a frat party?" He looks up at her and she scratches lightly at his head. 

"Yes, but not many because they're awful."

"I just carried a fifteen year old girl out of a frat house - she was blacked out and they were-" he leans back, away from her and rubs his hand over his mouth. "There were six guys in the room with her and Jesus- I can't even tell you how I ended up at this...this piece of shit house."

"Oh, God. Where is she?" Her panic is rising. "What did you do with her? What did you do to them?" She backs away and her back hits the door frame. 

"I didn't kill them. I wanted to. ...I wanted to."

"What then? Did you-"

"I left them bloody. Got her out. Brought her to my guy."

His guy. She hears a lot about his guy. She knows it's a cop, but he won't expose the man, not even to her. 

"She was- Jesus. ...they didn't fucking care. It was all a joke- offered me a turn..." He stands abruptly and whips the shower curtain open. "They're kids. They're just fucking kids. I beat the fear of Jesus into kids."

"You saved one as well."

"Yeah."

He doesn't sleep that night or for the next week. He wants to visit the girl, but knows it's a bad idea. He wants to visit the frat, but knows it's a worse idea. 

~~~~~~~

Ellison tells her she has a visitor and it can only be Foggy. He's the only one that visits during normal work hours. 

It's not Foggy. It's William. 

You could knock her over with a feather when he walks through her office door. 

You see, William is her high school sweetheart. She had told him to visit anytime, but that was years ago. 

Shit shit shit. 

"Oh my dear lord, look at this angel!" He's...well, imagine Ned Flanders, but younger and way more attractive. Actually, think of Ned Flanders and Captain America - that's her William. William. Just William. 

She gets to her feet to meet his embrace. "What are you doing here?!"

"Well, it took me a while to find the place, but here I am! Your mom told me you were working at a place called The Bullet."

"Bulletin," she corrects. 

"Yes, I worked that out. Sorry to drop in on you like this, but I just missed you so much and needed to see your face." They dated for almost three years in high school, but they were more like best friends. 

"Well, I uh, I suppose I can leave a little early." She checks her watch and sees that it's 4:30 - not too bad. "What, uh- wow. What would you like to do?"

"Well, take me to your place so I can drop my stuff and then maybe dinner? My treat."

"Your stuff? You're staying?"

"Just for a night. I hope it's okay? Your parents want a full report."

Fuck fuck fuck. 

"Sure, yeah. Let's go. Just- I need to use the ladies room..." She inches past him. 

She ducks into a stall and calls Frank. "Pickuppickuppickup..."

"Hey - what's up?"

"I only have a few minutes, but William showed up at my office and expects to stay the night - where are you?"

"Who's William?"

"William William...you know, my high school boyfriend..." She's told him all about William.

"You're serious? I was gonna- I have a whole thing-"

"What? What thing?"

"I cooked."

"Oh. Well, I would much rather do that. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"You know, I have a permanent solution to this problem."

"Frank, please stop suggesting I kill people that annoy me."

"You don't have to - I will."

She groans and he tells her it's fine. He'll wrap up the food and-

"Kare bear? You okay in there?" William has ducked his head into the women's bathroom.

"The fuck did he just call you?"

"I'm fine. Women troubles. I'll be out in a minute."

"You're not due for your period for another two weeks." Frank informs her. 

"It is deeply disturbing you know that," she whispers into the phone. 

"Sure thing, Kare Bear." 

"Please don't."

"Are you the one with the rainbow on its belly?"

"I'm not above killing you."

"Golly golly gosh!"

"Seriously? I'm going to smash your face in," she can't help but laugh at the Punisher quoting the Care Bears. "We could always come have dinner with you?"

"Sharing IS caring."

She sighs and flushes the toilet. "So, I guess we'll be home soon. How do I explain you?"

"We don't need to huff and puff, let's get it done, it's not that tough."

She hangs up on him and makes a mental note to find out why he had so many care bear quotes at the ready. 

~~~~~~~


End file.
